Hide And Seek
by claire-chan143
Summary: On Hiatus For 2 Months
1. Prologue

Cut from the same cloths, they'd either kill each other or love each other like no other. Either way, they were doomed.

* * *

Mikan slid out of the car doors "You'll let me know if you get anything from Persona"

"What are we? Partners now!"

"That's right. Call me." She slammed the door and walked to the hotel office, giving Natsume her best back show.

If she was sixteen again, and he was seventeen, he would gun the engine and peel out. But she wasn't sixteen. He wasn't seventeen. She was twenty four with missing mother and sister and only a month of severance between her and the streets. He was twenty five, a detective who has seen human depravity in all its many incarnations. Still, she'd bet her last year of decent dividends that as he eased the unmarked vehicle into traffic and pulled smoothly away, he was smiling. Just like her


	2. Chapter 1

Here's the First Chapter of Hide and Seek  
I hope You'll like it..

* * *

The streets were narrower than Mikan Yukihara's memory. Front yards were cemented. Later, after the day's heat, some ladies would set up chairs on their lawn to have some tea.

The station house was clean-colored Square with clear windows. She continued inside with cozy-chairs, turbo blast air-conditions, files stacked orderly.

Mikan moved to the front desk. "I want to file a missing person's report," she told the woman behind the brown desk.

The woman didn't look up. "Child or adult?"

"Adult."

"Mentally disabled?"

"No," Mikan told the woman's crown in need of touch up.

"Physically disabled?"

"No."

"Possible victim of foul play?"

"Bingo." Mikan had never perfected the art of making friends.

The woman's head snapped up. "Yuu," she yelled her eyes shish-kebabing Mikan. "Possible missing." She jerked her head toward the back, her sprayed bouffant solid. "Third desk on the right."

Mikan was almost to the waiting Yuu with the keen, beady gaze when she heard her name spat as question. She yanked her head around just to find herself chest to rib cage with Natsume he was bigger than she liked to remember and solid as the brick walls she'd been running into her whole life. He sported some messy hairstyle not popular among the cops. Mikan knew he'd never known in his twenty five years. The planes of his face were still the same the line of his mouth as soft as when she had first pressed her own to it.

She reined herself in while he checked out her two hundred-rabbit haircut, the designer clothes, the air of success and confidence she'd struggled for since she was ten. Only she knew the third-rate brokerage firm where she'd worked had gone bust, her stock portfolio was in the crapper along with her ex-customers' and her personal financial strategy of making no more than 'the monthly minimum required' was a hint as to why she should never have stepped onto Kagurazaka in the first place.

But she forgot all that as her gaze fell to where it shouldn't have, and caught the badge low on her old lover's belt loops.

"Son of a bitch," she said to life general, more specifically to the unwelcome hum in her limbs gaining power.

Natsume smirked. "Can take the girl out of the neighborhood but can't take the neighborhood out of the girl?"

Before she had a chance to redeem herself with a more tasteful response, the man who'd taken her virginity on a studio couch turned to his fellow officer. "I've got this one." With the same power he'd used to claim her maidenhood, Mikan was led to a cubicle with oak walls.

"Have a seat." He indicated the leather chair by the desk.

She tried for an elegant lift of her head. "Are you sure it's ethical for you to handle this report, considering our past?" Much better than her initial discharge.

He propped one muscled his hip on the desk's corner and smiled down at her.

His eyes alone could make woman say yes.

She tightened her mouth, tightened her limbs. "Don't try and weasel out of it by telling me you don't remember."

"I remember."

His tone, even more than his honesty, told her the man he'd become. She shot him a smile. After all, she had been as eager as he. Last maiden on the block had held no honor in her neighborhood. Nor any pleasure for a curious teenager whose closet run-in with titillation had been when she confused which orifice between her legs should be plugged with a tampon.

"Natsume Hyuuga. A cop. Damn." She plopped down the chair.

He cocked his head, gave her another good, long once-over. "Stockbroker?" he said as if it were a guess.

Her eyes narrowed. "You're good but you're not that good."

He chuckled, the sound hitting her square in the gut. "You've got a ripped up stock order ticked stuck on a ward of gum on the bottom of your shoe."

So much for aplomb. He was right. She stunk of the neighborhood.

"My mother might have mentioned it, too."

He could have gotten away without telling her that and impressed her big time. He hadn't

"More than once," he added in a way that said his mother had harangued him daily.

Mikan suddenly adored Mrs. Hyuuga. "How is your mother?"

"Moved to Osaka two years ago with a guy with Elvis hair."

Flashback:

_Knock on the door of the yellow row house with the brown roof at 2:00a.m, Mikan and her sister on the stoop in their pajama. The door would open to Mrs. Hyuuga. Sometimes Mikan's mother had still been bleeding, always starting to swell. Once there'd been cracked ribs…_

End of Flashback

He studied her, the pain of his own past no less than her own. "She was right. You did okay, Mikan, for a skinny, flat-chested runt from the neighborhood."

"I wasn't too skinny for you one night." But already her voice was softening. Even if he had broken her heart, she'd happily handed it to him. And Natsume's mother had been a good friend to Yuka and her two girls, not that Mrs. Hyuuga had ever been able to convinced Mikan's mother to leave her husband. Mrs. Hyuuga's own marriage had ended after her thirteen-year-old son had tried one Saturday night to protect her from her drunken husband. It'd taken four year s and Natsume's two-week hospital stay. So Mrs. Hyuuga understood what didn't seem understandable, opened her door to Mikan and her sister and her mother any time day or night. Even knowing after one or two days, an apology and promise it would never happen again, and Yuka would go home to Rei.

"You didn't do so bad yourself Hyuuga." He smiled. The hum inside her swelled.

"For a lying skunk."

His expression showed no offense. "I didn't lie, Mikan."

"Hell, no."

He smiled wider. "Then what are you pissed for?"

She attempted indignation. "You could have at least called and given me the chance to turn you down."

"I wasn't that a nice guy."

"You weren't a nice guy at all."

"I'm still not a nice guy."

Mikan heard the warning and appreciated it.

"So, what brings you back down memory lane?"

"My mother. I'm afraid something's happened to her. She'd missing."

"Missing?" He became all cop now. Again Mikan saw the man he had become.

"I called her last night. My sister had left a message on my machine yesterday to call her. She sounded a bit hysterical, but then again, that's not unusual for Luna. She seems to thrive on high drama. I called the last number I had for her, but it'd been disconnected. That's also not unusual for Luna. So I called my mother to see if she had a number for her. When there was no answer at the house, I called the bar. They said Mama hadn't been in all night, and Persona had just left. When I reached his house. He said Mama was gone. Said she'd taken some cash and left him."

"You don't believe him?"

The cynical twist of her lips revealed the woman she had become. "Would you?"

"I don't believe anybody."

"Me, either."

Nothing in his eyes flickered sympathy. She was grateful.

"Does she say anything to you about leaving him?"

Mikan shifted. Her gaze skittered about leaving the office expensive looking walls. "I never really got that dutiful daughter routine down. I sent flowers on birthdays, Mother's Day, checked in with her every few months, but weren't close." She didn't have to ask for understanding, not from Natsume, but she knew her eyes pleaded with him anyway.

"So, how do you know your mother didn't take the cash and split last night?"

"People don't change, Natsume."

"Some do."

"Maybe." She'd given him that much, but she could see the that kept his eyes dark and made him choose to wear a gun strapped to his side. Despite all appearances, he was holding on just like her.

"How far could she have gotten without her car?" she asked.

"She left her?" Natsume was cool enough not to lean forward but she'd gotten his interest.

"And that's about it." Her mother's dresser drawers had been empty; her bedroom closet had been the same except for a few hangers. Nothing. Not one odd sock, old shirt. In the mirrored medicine chest in the bathroom, there'd been no makeup, no Noxzema, no Topaz that her mother said was the only thing that killed the stink of Saturday night behind the bar. It was almost as if someone wanted to erase all traces. Except her mother's hot red Porsche Boxster S she'd called "Cherry" had been parked in the drive.

"My mother's car keys were on the kitchen counter along with a dry cleaning ticket for next Tuesday and an overdue video. Mama always did like to meet her responsibilities."

"No note? Anything like that?" Mikan shook her head.

"Somebody picked your mother up. A girlfriend?"

H e was respectful enough not to sat "boyfriend." After all, Yuka had changed his diapers. Still, the possibility Yuka had run off with another man was there like the spring bruising Mikan's butt now.

"I guess anything's possible." She gave Natsume a deliberate glance. "Nah. You know my mother. She was brought up that marriage is a sacrament, divorce is a sin."

Yuka's first husband's – Mikan's father – died due to heart attack when she was seven. Four years later her mother had married Rei 'Persona' Serio. The honeymoon hadn't lasted long. Yuka's choices in love were as bad as Mikan's hot stock picks.

"Only a few months ago, my mother and Persona had gotten a new place. Bought a fixer-upper not far from downtown. The place need some work but it had a couple wooded acres. Mama said the deer would come and eat right out of her hand. Last time I spoke with her, she…" Dead air.

"She sounded happy."

"When was that?"

She counted back mentally, avoiding Natsume's gaze. "Five, six, maybe eight weeks."

"That's a long time for happiness to last."

At least in the world they'd come from.

"When's the last time you talked you talked to your sister?"

Guilt made her gaze flit about the room again. "She called me about three, four months ago. We didn't talk much." She shrugged, hating that she still felt the need to ask for absolution. "Same old, same old. She needed money. I sent it." She was almost afraid to ask. "You know anything about her? Maybe where I can find her?"

"She was hanging out at a place called Mother's down lower South Street."

"Near the port?"

"I'll find her" he said.

_Stay out of it,_ she heard in his tone. She threw him her best low look of warning. He gave it right back to her.

"I used to walk these streets too, Hyuuga."

"Yeah, in Keio closeout." His gaze raked over her body and her five-hundred rabbit French outfit.

He had a point. That pissed her off even more. "Hey, I wasn't the only one who got my butt kicked from one end of Lansing to the other on more than one occasion."

"Stay away from the port."

He'd tried to tell her what to do. He'd made a big mistake.

He took out a business card. "Where are you staying?"

She had no idea. When she'd called and learned her mother was missing, she'd used her frequent flier miles to take the first available commuter, then a taxi to her mother and stepfather's house where she'd found only "Cherry" and her bald-headed, beer bellied stepfather in his boxers. She hadn't thought any further ahead than that. She wasn't going to stay at her stepfather's. She didn't know who was left in the old neighborhood.

"I'll get a hotel room."

"Do you have a cell phone?"

She nodded.

"Write it down. Does your sister, your mother have that number?"

She slanted her gaze. "Mama had my old number. My cell got stolen a few weeks ago. I meant to call and give her my new number…"

He glanced up. No sympathy, no reproach and she were grateful.

"Mama always called the apartment anyway."

He wrote on the card. "On the front is the station house number. This is my cell and my pager number on the back. Call in your room number when you get one. I'll bring Luna to you." He stood. "In the mean time, hang on out at the hotel, order some room service and a chick flick and paint your nails."

Damn if he hadn't done it again – ordered her around. She was getting steamed even if the things this man did with toes were almost worth excusing his arrogance. "She's my mother Natsume."

"Whatever happened, it's not your fault, Mikan."

"I know that." But it sure felt like it.

"Do you have any recent picture of your mother with you?"

"And you almost had me guilt-free here."

"We'll need one. I'll start looking for Luna, stop by your stepfather's bar and talk to him. C'mon." He touched her arm with carefulness she didn't remember. "I'll walk you out."

"Besides being a righter of wrongs, got any other good surprises for me, Hyuuga?" she asked as they left the station house, crossed into the parking lot. "Married?"

"I'm not that much of a changed man." He spotted the Porsche. "You're driving your mother's car?"

"I'm borrowing it." They reached the car. She slid into the driver's seat.

He moved between the open door and the car. "What about you?"

"What about me?"

"Married?"

"Supposedly. Until I found out that he's cheating on me. So much for true love." She shrugged. "Like mother, like daughter, huh?"

He shook his head, telling her no. Mercifully the black of his eyes stayed hard, flat. She wouldn't accept otherwise from him.

"Well, I did take the Limoges vase we'd gotten from his aunt as an engagement present and gave him a concussion."

"You always did have classy was about you." He smiled, a compatriot, and she remembered why she'd let him get into her pants.

"A cop and a Kagurazaka wheel-dealer."

She didn't correct him. "Who'd have thought it when we were young?" For the second time, his crimson eyes soften. "We were never young, Yukihara."

He looked at her so long her insides hummed like hive. He was a crazy maker.

"You ever have a cop before, Yukihara?"

Bless him. She shook her head, straining to her him above the purr.

"Yeah, you did."

"That didn't count."

He ran his finger down her cheek. "Yeah, it did." He grinned, and then shut the car door.

She fastened her seatbelt.

* * *

Lower down town had once been a wasteland of low-income housing, abandoned building, small inner-city businesses with bars across their windows. But revitalization fueled by district representative eager to get one step closer to the governor's mansion sitting high in the distance and an influx of young professionals had made the area fashionably urban in the past few years.

Now town houses alternated with crack houses. Drivers complained to city hall about lack of decent parking. Still, the renewal had not reached to where Mikan was heading. The warehouses were flat brown or a sad yellow and had the look of abandonment whether they were or not. The barges slat heavy and still in the gray-green water and the smell of fish and fruit and longshoremen's sweat wafted through the car's vent. Despite of the heat, she'd let the top up. She hadn't spent two hundred rabbits on a haircut to let nature have its way. Still the sweat trickling down her sides was from more than the summer heat. No one knew except and an overpriced therapist, even fewer would believe it, but she hated to drive.

She parked in lot several streets over from the docks, locked the car and started towards a squat, flat roofed building with a neon Miller sign in one window and Person's in faded blue letters above its door. She had changed her clothes from well-heeled Kagurazaka to denim and one-hundred percent cotton, charged at Junky store uptown. She figured that concession was close enough to obeying Natsume's orders to stay away from the port.

She stepped into the bar, stopping to adjust to the darkness after day's bright sun. For that second, she wished she didn't always feel compelled to do the opposite of whatever she was told to do. Even in common denim and White Cotton Slub Hurst Top and Keds, she was as conspicuous as hungry starlet.

She made a beeline for the bar, inviting the man to go back to their dart games and their beer and their alcohol-included sense that nothing was amiss.

The bartender was lean and his hair was shaved. "What can I do for you?"

He threw a cardboard coaster on the Naugahyde counter. She appreciated the attempt at the ambiance. She slung herself on to a stool as if she were a regular and smiled to show him there was no reason why they couldn't be friends. He folded his arms.

"I was told I might find Luna Yukihara here."

"That's right? Who told you that?"

She hesitated and was instantly out. The man's eyes narrowed. Natsume was right. She'd kept sharp dealing with daily roller-coaster ride on Kagurazaka, the early-learned practice of trusting no one and showing no fear making her seem born to broker. But she'd been away from these streets too long.

She just matched the man's mean squint when something flickered in his gaze.

"Mikan?"

She kept her own stare hard. "Maybe."

The man's meaty lips smiled. "Mikan Yukihara."

Mikan concentrated on the man's face, but nothing clicked.

"It's me Mochiage."

"Mochiage?" She remembered a sunken chested bean of a boy whose butt was kicked up and down Lansing ten times more than Natsume and hers put together.

The fleshy smile widened. "Actually they call me Mochu now."

"Doesn't make sense, what happened to you?" she asked.

"A little Marines. A little steroids and ba-ba-bing."

"Ba-ba-bing." Mikan echoed.

He wiped several sticky rings off the bar. "What can I get ya? It's on the house."

It wasn't much past noon and the strongest she'd had in past ten years was a nonfat latte.

"Double snake bite." She wasn't about to lose any freshly gained ground.

"So, what bring you home?" Mochu set the shot in front of her.

She supposed if she'd ever really had a home, this city would come the closet. "What else?" She picked up the glass, her eyes crossing from the drink's fumes. "Family."

"What always," he agreed with a truly painted expression for a man with dagger dripping blood down his forearm.

"Hear, hear," she tossed. Mochu watched her closely. It was now or never. She'd been gone too long and too far on the basis of old times alone. _This is for you, Ma. _She swallowed the drink in one gulp. She smacked her lips, released a satisfied "A-h-h." She still had it.

"Looking or little sis, huh?" Mochu picked up her glass for a refill. Her pleasure at her performance waned.

"The last number I have for her is no longer in service. I heard she hung here."

"She in trouble?"

She told him the truth. "I don't know."

"She never seem to stray far from it." He set another shot in front of her and leaned against the back counter.

Mikan recognized the challenge. In this neighborhood, proving yourself was part of the game. She eyed the drink. Two of these on an empty stomach and Gentleman George, who she'd seen still set up camp on the city's corners with an almost elegant woven basket for change and paper bag of Mad Dog 20-20, would be suave compared to her. Still, she needed info and she hadn't gotten any. On the other hand, Mochu could be calling her bluff. They'd both played the game. She reached for the drink. On principle alone, she never backed away from dare.

She had glass to her lips when Mochu circled her wrist with callused palm. "'Shiro Neko.' You never could never resist playing with big boys, could you?"

She looked up from the signature tattoo of the gang called Alice, inked on Bill's inner forearm. "Story of my life, Mochu."

He drowned the drink himself. "I heard you did pretty well. Luna, she was always going on about you."

Compared to her younger sister's mixed up life, Gentleman George was a successful story.

Mochu poured himself another shot. "Luna was real proud of you."

The guilt was familiar as it was keen. She'd stayed away with acceptable excuses but she knew the real reason she rarely came home. She was afraid –afraid of helplessness she experienced every time she thought of her sister, her mother. Afraid of small chant that came every time she saw them. _There but for the Grace of God…_ Now her mother was missing, her sister obviously still strung out, and she, the prodigal daughter, right back where her she began – broke, frustrated, burning for more than her barely blue-collar roots. And, as illustrated by her earlier reaction to a man who had ruined more women than a cheap bikini wax, not one iota wiser.

"Listen, I'll tell you what I told Hyuuga –"

"Natsume's been here already?" Not that it mattered, she reminded herself. Besides a moment of insanity when she'd let herself be engage to a cheating bastard, she'd never let anyone tell her what to do.

"You kept up with Natsume?" He eyed her slyly. "You two used to cha-cha, no?"

"It was once –"

Mochu lifted a brow.

"Hey –" she'd given up the virgin act readily long ago when she learned what waits on the other side. Still, nine years of Sunday school and no patent leather shoes during her formative years was hard to break. "What do you know anyway?"

Mochu shrugged. "Nothing. Hyuuga 'cha-cha'-ed every skirt I knew. Just checking to see if it'd been a clean sweep."

"Where's my sister Mochiage?"

Her tone was too close to "cut the crap." Mochu's gaze went into caution mode. She knew what he was thinking. _Shiro Neko._

_Sunken-chested butt-kicked bean boy,_ she mentally threw right back.

Mochu heaved a sigh. The piercing in his ear shimmied. "All right."

_One for Shiro Neko._

"I'll tell you what I told Natsume. Natsume. A cop. Can you beat that?"

"I'm still trying to wrap my mind around it. So where can I find Luna?"

"She worked here for about two months… when she showed up. Most of the time if she did show, she was too lit up to be any use to me anyway, but she'd start singing the blues and well, her and I, we go back some."

Mikan nodded. Like most addicts, her sister was a master of manipulation. It was a survival skill. Even aware of it, Mikan herself had let her sister work her over more than once.

"She hung off and on with a dude who worked the tankers. Name's Koko. He'd come up from Osaka. Smooth dog. Threw a lot of money around whenever the ship docked in the port."

"He still around?"

"He comes and goes. I haven't seen him in a while neither Luna. A couple of weeks ago, I caught her taking cash out of the register and pocketing it. I let her go. She got all huffy, as if I had some nerve firing her because she was stealing me blind. She'd a real piece of work, that one."

"She's a classic. And you haven't seen her since?"

"A few nights ago, I stopped at your father's joint –"

"He's _not_ my father."

The man raised his hands, her point was made. "Wednesday, I think it was."

"You talk to her?"

He shook his head. "No, I stayed away. Your mother was serving that night. She and your sister, they seemed to be having a 'discussion.' Then Luna stomped out, not looking too happy. Nor too healthy."

"My mom was working on Wednesday? Last time I talked to her, she was only working on Friday and Saturday nights."

Mochu shrugged. "Maybe she was filling in for one of the other girls. Picking up little spare cash."

For new house? Or new life?

"What is Koko's whole name?"

"Kokoro Yome. He busted a guy's nose one night for calling him freak."

"Sound like a sweetheart. He and Luna like to hang out anywhere else?"

"Anywhere there was action, if they're still hanging together. One of the regulars last week said they'd seen Luna at a place downtown. The Golden Cue. But she wasn't with Koko."

Mikan slid off the stool, pulling out the twenty she'd found stuffed between the car's seat cushions when she searched for the seat belt. "Thanks, Mochu."

"Hey, I told you it's on the house."

Mikan hesitated. She didn't like accepting favors. Time come they'd be called in. But a perceived insult could be just as deadly. She worked to appear gracious.

"Okay, well thanks again."

"How long are you in Town?"

"I'm not sure." She looked into Mochu's eyes, "A while, I guess." She scribbled her cell number on a cocktail napkin. "If you see Luna, will you give her this? Tell her I'm looking for her."

Mochu enjoyed watching her walk to her car. He watched as she got into her car, jumped right back out, her mouth working while she took down the car's convertible top. Still talking to herself, she got back in checked the side and rear mirrors, then drove out of sight. He waited another minute before he picked up the phone.

End

* * *

First and for most I would like to say sorry for some of my grammatical errors. :(

* * *

Well, anyway Please don't forget to leave a Review all of your opinion(s) are welcome..

Till next Chapter  
XOXO  
~Claire-chan143


	3. Chapter 2

Heres chapter 2 of Hide and Seek  
Please Enjoy

* * *

Natsume checked out the Golden Cue, noting windows, exits, and alarms. The décor was uptown, but its roots were from down the line. Like Mikan.

He scanned the people inside the pool hall, studied the man wearing arm garters behind the bar. All looked routine, but that meant nothing to Natsume. He trusted nothing or no one, a trait that made for a solitary man but a great cop. He moved toward the bar.

"What can I get you sir?" The bartender slid an eight-ball coaster across the bar. He was medium height, 145.29 pounds, blond hair blue eyes and an angelic face.

Natsume flashed his shield. "I'm looking for someone."

The bartender looked at the badge, unimpressed.

"Luna Yukihara."

"What about her?"

"Know her?"

"She comes in here sometimes, shoots the breeze until her boyfriend arrives."

"Got a name for the boyfriend?"

The bartender shook his head. "He stayed in the back in the back at the tables."

"Luna never mentioned his name?"

"Someone wants to tell me something, I listen. But if they don't, I don't ask."

"What does he look like?"

The other man shrugged. "Not much. Twenty something. Suit-and-tie guy. Pale looking, like he didn't get outside much. Kind of nondescript, you know. One of those guys blends. Except for the for the hair. Guy had good hair."

"Good hair?"

"Thick. Shone like mink under the table lights. Obviously dye, but a good one. Must have had it done professionally. I figured the low profile for the fact he was married."

"That's what you think was going on with this guy and Luna? An affair?"

The bartender shook his head.

"How 'bout her boyfriend?"

"Another woman?"

"Businessman."

"Let me guess. No name."

"You got it. Always came late, after midnight, sat in the back. Anna, waitress who worked the night shift, never left early when they walked in. They were good tippers."

"Anna still working here?"

The bartender shook his head. "She left last month to move with her sister to California."

"This businessman, what'd he look like?"

"Respectable looking."

"And they came in late, sat in the back and that was it."

"Yeas, pretty quiet for a boys' night out, expect last time they were in."

"What happened?"

"The music was playing, but I could hear their voices coming from the back. They were arguing about something."

"You hear what?"

"Not over the music. Neither looked too happy when they left, thought. I haven't seen the other man here again."

"What about Luna and her boyfriend?"

"They were in last week."

"What day?"

"Tuesday, Wednesday, maybe Thursday."

"That's the last time you've seen either of them?"

The bartender nodded. "Something happen to Luna?"

"That's what we're trying to find out. Thanks for your time." Natsume laid a card on the bar. "You think of something else or see Luna or her friend, this is my number."

Natsume walked to the unmarked Ferrari F430 parked on the street, he unlocked the door and went in. With the air-condition going full blast, he pulled out into traffic and headed back downtown. Mochu had been at the Golden Cue with someone else. According to him, Koko was tall, had a spiky sandy hair and he hadn't been seen in a while. Perhaps someone at the port had seen him. He neared Mother's again on his way to the docks; saw a bright red Porsche Boxster S, pulling out in the opposite direction. The fact that the woman in the car looked beautiful with her long hair blowing only pissed Natsume off more as he pulled a U-turn.

* * *

Mikan was sitting at the red light when her purse on the passenger seat rang. She fumbled inside it, pulled out her blackberry.

"Mikan Yukihara."

"Go home."

"I'm home." Her response surprised her as much while her mind worked, trying to place the voice that thought it could push her around. It had been muffled, purposely disguised. She tossed the cell on the side, her phone rang again, and she grabbed it greedily.

"Listen, peckerhead –" Whoever it was wasn't getting a second chance to scare the pants off her.

"Talking on a handheld cell phone while driving is illegal."

Natsume. Who had used different tactics to get her pants off.

She glanced in the rearview mirror for a department vehicle, but saw nothing. "How do you know I'm even driving?"

"Hang up and pull over."

She still hadn't adjusted to Natsume's voice, real, growling and calling up images she preferred to shred. "Are you tailing me?" That hum had to be in her cell phone. A pelvis couldn't purr like that.

"Don't even attempt lingo." She heard his disgust.

"I don't see a police car."

"The light's you're heading just turned red.

She shifted her gaze, slammed on the brake. "I still don't see a police car," she argued, peering again in the mirror. "It wouldn't be the first time you lied to me."

A Harley-Davidson motorcycle pulled up on her driver's side. The rider wore a button-down shirt and tie, tailored pants and black helmet. He turned his head, his face covered by full visor. He twisted the accelerator handle. The engine roared. Mikan couldn't see the driver's face but she knew beneath that opaque Plexiglas, he was smiling. Manopause.

The sun flashed off the bike's chrome, polished to perfection with muscle and love. A metallic gleam moved, lifted, aimed. Mikan stared almost in fascination. A tidy little gun pointed at her forehead. Her brows pulled together, asking that gun barrel's black hole, "What the –?" She twisted the wheel and drove onto the sidewalk, beeping her horn as pedestrian scattered and swore at her in curse she'd learned in childhood. From her phone that was thrown on the seat, she heard Natsume screaming a similar litany.

"Oh yeah," she yelled above her horn and wheels squealing. "At least now you can't arrest me for talking on my cell phone, can you?" She veered into Maiden at the corner, the street angling towards the preserve. Her lane was blocked by a double-parked Acura. A garbage truck took up the opposite lane. Mikan glanced wildly at the sidewalk. A woman was pushing a baby carriage, the heat and the hill making her face shine.

Mikan leaned on the horn. The uniformed man sling the trashcans into the truck's jaws gave her the finger. She looked at the rearview mirror; saw the cycle, its faceless driver. The motorcycle pulled up flush at the driver's door. The metallic length throwing rainbow in the heat, aimed at her. She pressed on gas, shot for the slender space between the Acura and the garbage truck, knew she'd never make it. She held the gas pedal to the floor. "C'mon, Cherry," she prayed. "Make Mama proud."

She watched the Acura's driver's door opening as if in slow motion, one stockinged leg in heels stretching out. "No!" she screamed, leaning on the horn. She slammed on the brake, wished she could close her eyes. The trash men were standing around, watching as if on afternoon break. The leg is so lovely it only pissed Mikan off more, jerked back. She heard a thud as she was thrown against the seat. Metal screamed as the Acura's door ripped off its hinges. It flew up into the air as if celebrating its freedom only to fall, bounced on the asphalt like a pitched penny. God, she hated driving.

She glanced in the rearview mirror to see the motorcycle corner into a side alley. Three-L-Z was all she got on the plate. A dark unmarked Ferrari, its headlights flashing, rounded opposite corner.

She grabbed her blackberry. "Hey, what happened to black and white? Blue and yellow? Big, bold letters, City Police?"

As if in answer, a black-and-white patrol car turned in from the other corner.

"Pull over, Mikan."

"With pleasure."

She pulled up the curb behind a vintage VW Beetle, watched Natsume get out of the car and come towards her. Over the years she'd wondered if she might have exaggerated his handsomeness, his raw energy. She hadn't. Now a gun strapped to his side, the man knew no mercy.

The luckily saved leg in the Acura had been joined by another that went all the way up to an indecently short skirt, a shirt with shoestring straps and a permy dark-green hair. Another patrol car pulled up at the opposite end to block off the street. Two uniformed men directed traffic. Another two followed Natsume to the Acura. Hot Legs was pacing back and forth, gesturing at the empty space where the door had been. The garbage men who had raced to her side, gallants knights smelling of sweat and refuse, gathered round her, offering comforts. Natsume stopped, must have said something reassuring or sexy, because Permy went still a moment, tossed and smiled up to him, all teeth and mouth. The garbage men got their money's worth. The woman was still all teeth as Natsume nodded to the two other policemen and headed towards the Porsche.

Mikan gazed straight ahead, her hands sweaty, gripping the steering wheel until the tap on the windshield.

She turned, coming face-to-face with Natsume Hyuuga for the second time that day and knowing she'd never get used to the sensation.

"Driver's license and registration."

"You're playing with me aren't you?"

His stoic silence told her nothing.

"Why are you hanging around harassing innocent citizens anyways?"

His eyebrow lifted on "innocent."

"That guy. The slimeball on the motorcycle. He had a gun and he was about to use me for target practice. Didn't you see that?"

"I was busy watching you teat up city property and terrorize pedestrians."

"He had a gun."

He studied her as if gauging her sanity.

"He was going to shoot me."

He looked at her, the crimson in his eyes darker than she remembered. She didn't realize she was trembling until he touched her upper arm. She jerked away.

"I'm telling you, there's an insane businessman on a bike running around this city, and he's got a bullet with my name on it."

He turned and went back to his vehicle.

"Hey!" She jumped out of the car and slammed the car door.

"We'll need your information, ma'am," the uniformed cop standing beside Permy noted as Mikan marched by.

"And insurance policy number," the blonde added. Mikan ignored them both and headed toward the Ferrari. It swerved to miss her and sped off in the direction the motorcycle had headed.

The patrol officer came up beside her. "License and registration, ma'am."

The Ferrari disappeared. Mikan stared after it as helpless as when a gun had been aimed at her head.

* * *

"Black Harley last seen heading northbound down Shinjuku Gyoen. Driver six one, 160 pounds, business clothing, black helmet tinted full-face front visor. Maybe armed."

Too much time had passed. A motorcycle was easily slipped into a side alley or a parking garage. The gunman could be strolling the street already, blending with the lunch-hour crowd, or within minutes he could have exchange the motorcycle for something four-wheeled and more respectable. Businessmen clandestinely meeting in the billiard halls; a man in a suit chase down a car in broad daylight. The moves were getting bolder – an indication the bad guys getting desperate. And when things got desperate, people died.

Natsume slammed his fist against the steering wheel. Fists. Just like his old man. Sometimes it was all he knew. A red rage he had fought his whole life to restrain, cautious use of power. In the choice of a personal life that allowed no one to get too close.

He hadn't even seen a gun. He had been too focused on Mikan. The girl had rattled him, taken him off his game. He didn't like it.

One shot and Mikan could have been lying in the street right now. Dead. His fist slammed the wheel.

* * *

Mikan was at Natsume's side before he could open the door.

"Did you get a license plate?" Natsume asked her.

"You lost him?" He'd left her behind, and she didn't like it.

"A motorcycle is easy to get rid of, replace with something else. Patrols are on the lookout."

"I caught some of the plate. Three-L-Z."

"Partial plate three, L as in lion, Z as in zebra." Natsume called in. "Again, suspect possibly armed."

"No 'possibly' about it," Mikan protested. "The scumbag is packing."

A thin vein popped out on Natsume's temple He got out of the car. He stood a head and a half taller than her and was probably double her weight. Okay, one and one-half times her weight. With a hard exhale communicating she was peeved; she straightened to her full five foot four inches.

"Why would a businessman on a black Harley want to kill you, Mikan?"

She put one hand on her hip, cocked it as she took a step toward him to let him know she wasn't going to be intimidated. Attracted, yeah. Purring like the little engine. But badge and big, beautiful body aside, Natsume Hyuuga wasn't going to tell her what to do. She'd gotten careless once; let a man try to push her around. It wouldn't happen again. "You're the cop. You tell me."

"Maybe someone besides me didn't like the fact you went down to Mother's and started asking questions."

"My mother and sister are missing. I'm not going to sit around a hotel room."

Natsume sighed, rubbed one side of his head.

She smiled. "You still do that, huh?"

"What?"

"Rub the side of your head when you're frustrated."

"You've seen this move before?"

"I've seen all your moves, Hyuuga."

He broke out into slow-coming grin that was move numero uno in Mikan's book.

"Somebody did call me after I felt Mother's," she said before any more moves surfaced, and she could no longer think straight. "The one you called harass me about. The voice was deliberately disguised."

"What'd it say?"

"Go home."

"Not exactly a warm welcome back isn't it?"

"I didn't expect a party."

They stood, shoulders set, stance ready to attack. To an outsider, from the firm mouths, the thrust of their chests, they could be enemies. But in their locked gazes, they were allies.

He nodded toward the green haired girl and the patrol car officers. "They get everything they need?"

"I was on my way to look for the insurance cards when you pulled in."

They stared toward the others.

"Look. Look at this car." Permy had worked herself into lather.

"I'm sorry," Mikan offered.

"I could've been killed."

"Me, too," Mikan said.

Permy gave a huff.

"We'll need your license and proof of insurance, ma'am," the uniformed policeman told her.

"I hope you have good coverage," Permy let her know.

"Isn't double parking illegal?" Mikan wondered aloud. She headed toward Cherry, prying the insurance cards were in the car somewhere.

The Porsche's headlight was shattered, the metal around it was wrinkled, paint scraped off the side. She patted the car's door like an old friend. "We're not having a good day, are we?"

She opened the passenger-side door and slid in, throwing her purse onto the driver's seat. She clicked opened the glove compartment, shuffled through packs of matches, odd pens, a compact, a map folded wrong, a coupon for a free cocktail on Ladies' Night. A half-full bottle of a nail polish rolled out as she dug deep. She found a plastic orange sleeve, the insurance company's business card tucked in its front and the insurance cads inside. She resisted the urge to lay a big wet one on the slick orange cover. She shoved the cards into her purse, crammed everything else back into the glove box and closed it. She grabbed her purse and was sliding out when she saw the dark color oozing onto the floor. The nail polish's cap must have been loosened from the fall. Polish was leaking onto the carpet.

"Oh, hell." She slammed her purse on the seat, grabbed several napkins out of the glove compartment and threw them on the wet spot. She grabbed another handful of napkins, slid out, got on her knees and leaned in to soup up the spill.

"Problem?" Natsume asked behind her.

"A bottle of nail polish leaked all over the floor. I've got most of the color wiped up, although at this point, it doesn't seem –" She stopped as, stuffed beneath the passenger seat, she saw two neatly banded stacks of cash.

She jerked upright, banging her head on the open glove compartment. A hand reached over her shoulder. She gave a start.

"I'll take care of those," Natsume said.

She looked down at the napkins wadded in her fist, plopped them into Natsume's palm while trying to understand the fact that a couple of substantial bundles of cash were crammed beneath the seat besides her.

"You okay?"

"Sure, sure." She pushed herself up, brushed off her shorts. Natsume studied her. _Trained to suspect._

"That stuff, whoa, the smell made me a little dizzy." She fumbled in her purse, avoiding Natsume's study. "I found the insurance cards. Ta-dum." She brandished them out of her bag.

He pitched the napkins into a trash can on the sidewalk, reached the insurance cards. He motioned for the other cop to come over. "I need your driver's license, too."

She whipped out her wallet, slid out her license and handed it to him.

He studied the card, shook his head.

"Yes, I know. The perm mistake."

He looked at her. "This expired seven months ago."

"No way.: She grabbed the card out of his hand , read the date. "Well obviously somebody forget to send me a renewal. Not that it matters much. I never drive. Owning a car in the city only a grand theft waiting to happen."

"You were driving today." He sighed. "Come on."

"Come on where?"

"It's illegal to drive without a license."

"I'll go right to the DMV and straighten this all out. And I'll take the bus."

"You were driving illegally and hit a parked car."

"Double-parked," she corrected.

His gaze stayed steady on her. "People willingly give you their hand-earned money?"

Not anymore. But only she and the washed-up firm of Banes Brokerage knew that. She resisted the urge to retort "The city legally gave you a gun?" Whether it was Natsume Hyuuga or not, antagonizing a member of the local law enforcement would not be the smoothest move she'd made in the past week.

"Let's go, Yukihara"

"What about the car?" And the twin stacks of cash beneath the front seat?

"It'll be towed."

"What!? I know the routine. Those guys court the cops, then charge triple to the poor saps who get towed."

"Someone might have tried to take you out during their lunch break and you're worried about a trumped up towing charge?"

No, she was worried about her mother, her sister, threatening phone calls, a motorcycle-riding mystery man with a gun, and now wads of cash stuffed under the front seat. But until she knew more, she preferred to keep this latest discovery herself.

Natsume massaged the back of his neck. "Give me the keys. I'll have one of the officers drive it over my garage and tell the owner I'll be over late to talk to him. In the meantime. I'll drop you off the DMV. Considering the circumstances, I'll overlook the fines for the expired license, but I'm not letting you behind the wheel again until I have proof you're legal."

Natsume's solution was too reasonable to protest. Still, as he started toward the others, she stayed rooted as he started toward the others, she stayed rooted while her mind worked overtime to find an excuse. He glanced over his shoulder, saw she wasn't following.

He took a long breath. "I do have handcuffs."

"Are you trying to ask me out on a date?"

His eyes warned her, she was walking a fine line.

"You were more fun before you became a cop."

Now he smiled. "You were more fun before I became a cop too."

He'd won. And he knew it.

"Just let me check the spill, see if I can blot up a little more Flamboyant Fuchsia." She grabbed napkins out of the glove compartment and knelt down, setting her hand bag on the floor beside the dried stain. She patted the floor few times, then, making sure her body blocked Natsume's view, she darted her hand under the seat, scooped one stack, then the other into her purse. Thank God she always opted for small suitcase instead of the envelope-sized clutches so chic nowadays. She snapped her purse shut and stood.

"Ready?" Natsume asked behind her.

She had the cash. Now all she had to do was find her mother and her sister and stay one step ahead of scumbags with fondness for motorcycles and Shiny guns. Was that what her mother and sister were doing? Staying one step ahead of someone who wanted them dead? Had they succeeded? Her legs felt suddenly unsteady. She needed something to lean on.

"Don't make me use force Yukihara."

She turned to Natsume's hard expression. The shakiness subsided. She blesses him for the second time that day.

"Easy, Officer. I'll come willingly." She moved toward him. "Just like ol' times"

He smiled as he escorted her to the Ferrari, its lights still flashing like Mardi gras. "You said it yourself, Mikan." He opened the passenger door and stood waiting for her to enter as if this were the prom night they'd never had.

"People don't change."

* * *

What do you think? Is it good enough for you?  
Review so I'll know what you think.. all of your opinion(s) are welcome :)

Well, anyway I would like to say Thank You for those who read, reviewed, followed, and added Hide and Seek in their favorites list.. Once again Thank you..

* * *

Till the next chapter ;)  
XOXO  
~Claire-chan143


	4. Chapter 3

Here's chapter 3  
Enjoy :)

* * *

As soon as the car door slammed, she began to shake. She clutched her handbag on her lap, the bulk adding no comfort. She pressed her molars to each other, locked her jaw and her eyes looked straight ahead.

"Why would a man on a motorcycle want to kill me?" She stared outside the window.

"I asked you first."

She clasped her purse. The trembling traveled up and down the biceps. "And that phone call." She flexed her arms to still the shaking and give her some sense of dignity. The pathetic results were the opposite.

"Someone wants you out of here."

She slumped back against the seat. "Why would anyone want to kill me?" she repeated with such fresh incredulity she expected a smart remark from Natsume.

"Maybe he wasn't trying to kill you."

"The man had a gun, Natsume."

"Maybe he was just trying to scare you. Give you a warning."

"Like the phone call?" Mikan considered.

"Maybe whatever is going on, you're in the way. An unnecessary complication."

Mikan studied her old lover then looked away, fed up with herself. It wasn't as if she hadn't had her share of men. Granted, none as memorable as Natsume – except for her ex fiancé, who remained infamous in her memory for completely different reason. She stared out on the window again, watching the buildings of her past go by.

"Or maybe Harley-riding fast-tracker thought you were someone else."

"Like who?"

"The car's owner."

"My mother?"

"Maybe your mother saw something, knows something she's not supposed to. Maybe the bad guys know she drives a red Porsche Boxster S."

"If the bad guys thought it was Mama driving Cherry, then that would mean my mother _is _still out there, somewhere, alive."

"It's a theory." Natsume cautioned. "That's all. Some thinking out loud until we catch a break." He glanced at her. "You name the car?"

"My mother did." She leaned forward. "Did you go talk to Persona?"

"I went to the bar, but he hadn't shown up yet. One of the guys talking a brewery delivery said he usually didn't show up during the week until later. I made a few other stops, was on my way to the docks when I saw 'Cherry' pulling out by Mother's." In her peripheral vision, she saw his lips curl. "Surprise, surprise."

"What'd you learn on your 'other' stops?"

"That's confidential information on an ongoing investigation."

"I'll bet it gives you buzz to say that." She sank into the seat. "Do you think they're alive, Natsume? My mother and sister?" She met his gaze, the crimson in his eyes that rarely revealed. She had expected anything but silence. It scared her most of all.

"I can't answer that, Mikan."

She looked away to the street, from one past to another.

"Not yet." She heard his promise. She was glad she had loved him once.

"Here we are." The car pulled up in front of a wide one-story building with a large parking lot. Natsume turned to her. "Go get legal again. I've got to go back to the station, fill out reports, and check on some things. I'll pick you up in about an hour. When you get done, don't go anywhere. Stay right here until I get back."

He'd done it again. Told her what to do. Halfway out the door, she whipped around, ready to do battle and caught concern in those eyes that never told anything. Quick she'd caught him, the eyes went blank. Her defiance fell. It'd been long time since concern had come her way. Natsume Hyuuga was at least likely source. _Surprise, surprise._

"Behave yourself," he told her. "You go getting yourself off, and I'll have to go back down to the precinct and fill out a mess of paperwork."

She smiled as she slid out of the car. "I just might fall in love with you yet."

The DMV had gone twenty-first century with a neon board that stated in red light which number was being served. Tubular lights, pointing heavenward, blinked on with a soft chime beside the clerk that would processes the next request. The woman at the front desk had explained that since Mikan's expiration was less than two years old, she could renew using the regular procedure. She filled out necessary paperwork and sat down on one of the benches in long rows in the center of the room. Mikan focused on a clerk with a face as thin as his tie, but she thought about the man on the motorcycle, saw again the slender, almost elegant silver length of the gun rising, aiming. A chime sounded. Mikan jumped. Her number was flashing on the neon board. She got up, moved towards the counter.

The clerk, a middle-aged woman with thinning hair and blank expression, slid Mikan's paper works across the counter without looking up at her, reviewed it, checking the various boxes and blanks to make sure they had been filled correctly. "Please look at the eye chart on the wall and read the lowest line possible."

Mikan read the letters on the chart. "Step to the left, place your feet on the footsteps," the clerk instructed without looking at her.

Mikan did as told, involuntarily patting her hair. She showed her teeth. "I don't have anything in my teeth do I?

The camera blinked in answer.

"Hey, I wasn't ready. Redo."

The woman gave her a flat gaze before she moved back to her station. "This isn't a Photo studio."

"Well, at least, it'll beat the 'do' on my last one looked like –"

"That'll be forty-three rabbits." The clerk punctuated her request with the thud of a stamp. "If you're writing a check, make it payable to –"

"I'm not writing a check," Mikan informed her. Checking her account balance had been decidedly unreliable since tech stocks went in the toilet.

She reached into her briefcase-size purse, fumbling for her wallet. Her fingers closed around the cash from Cherry's front seat. Cold cash was an inept expression. Even this mystery money was warm as a good memory.

"Credit card?" the woman said, her gaze on the wall clock behind Mikan.

"Yes." Mikan snatched her hand away from the rubber-banded root off all evil and found her wallet. She pulled it out and opened it. A ten and four ones were in the cash compartment. Plastic cards lined the opposite side. She slipped one out and handed it to the clerk.

The woman walked to a counter behind her, slid the card through for authorization. She walked back a minute later. "Declined." A note of superiority in grained itself the announcement.

Mikan grabbed the card. "Those one-day sales are going to kill me yet. Here" She swept another card her wallet. The clerk gazed down at it dubiously before taking it and walking to the back. Mikan crossed her fingers not to be done in by the DMV. The clerk came back with a credit slip for her to sign, and she breathed easy.

The clerk handed her a paper. "This is temporary license. Your license arrives in the mail in a week or two." The clerk pressed a button and the light above her desk gave a ping. Mikan jumped again. She stepped away from the counter, was slipping the temporary license in her wallet when she heard someone call her name.

She looked up, past the clerk.

"It's me." A buxom woman in rebellious orange amid the bland stepped out of one of the officers that banked the back of the service area. "Anna, Anna Umenomiya. Well, actually it's Anna Tobita now."

Anna Umenomiya. She taught Mikan how to cook pastries and shorten the skirt of her school uniform by rolling up the waistband, but it was Mikan who had introduced her to Yuu Tobita.

"Anna!" Pleasure filled Mikan's voice as she smiled at her old friend. "You didn't actually go and marry class rep. did you?"

"You know I did. And I've got the certificate from Sacred Heart Cathedral, Yokohama, two kids, and a raised ranch in the country to prove it." Anna came through the counter's half door to hug Mikan. "Give me a hug, girl, and lie to me and tell me I look good."

Laughing, Mikan hugged her girlhood friend. "Honey, believe me when I tell you you're a sight for sore eyes."

Let me look at you." Anna leaned back to take Mikan in. She nodded her approval, linked her arm through Mikan's. "Got a minute to catch up? I've got a half –eaten bag of red licorice twist and enough pictures of the kids in my wallet to make you beg for mercy."

Mikan glanced out the windows to the parking lot. No sign of Natsume.

Anna noted Mikan's glance. "Unless you have to get somewhere."

"No, no," Mikan assured her. "Natsume's supposed to pick me up and I was just checking to see if he was waiting for me."

"Natsume Hyuuga?" Anna raised her brows and smiled slyly.

"It's not what you think."

"I'm not thinking anything, because I know you're going to tell your old buddy Anna everything."

"Not until I see your kids."

The two women went into Anna's office and closed the door. Over licorice and with photos spread out on the desktop, Mikan filled Anna in on the past twenty-four hours.

Anna shook her head when Mikan finished, her face grave. "Yuu and I moved out of the city when the kids were born. We commuted in for work, but we got a little place in Shibuya. We've lost touch with what's going on in the old neighborhood. I wish there was some way I could help you."

Mikan looked at her old friend. "Actually, there might be." Mikan smiled. Anna smiled back. They could have been eleven again.

A short time later, Mikan had the information she needed and the two of them hugged goodbye. Both were wise enough not to promise to stay in touch.

She went outside. The heat hit her head-on. She leaned against the gray building in the shade of the roof's overhang and waited for Natsume. Thanks to Anna, technology and partial plate number, Mikan had discovered that the Harley was registered to Reo Mouri in a suburb west of Tokyo. Natsume hadn't fooled her with paper works excuse. He'd gone back to the station o run the partial plate and get name and address. He'd probably already paid a visit to Reo Mouri. Not that he'd let her know if he had learned anything. He'd made it clear she was supposed to sit back and let the police handle the case.

Fat chance.

Her shirt stuck to her back. Her burse hung heavy on her shoulder. She cast a subversive glance inside it. The cash lay there, unreal. The top bill showing was twenty. She reached in, lifted its corner. Another twenty, and another, and another. Nice safe denomination. Common, unobtrusive, easy to change. She reached past the bundle to the next, bills, as far as she could tell, tied up neat as a Christmas present.

Had her mother been planning on leaving her step-father, and this was her means? If so, why would she leave it behind along with the car? Had she meant to get away but got no farther than her husband's wrath? Despite the heat, Mikan went cold all over. She spied Natsume pulling into the parking lot. She slid her hand out of her purse, stepped out from beneath the ever hang.

He stopped in front of her. Knowing there were no civilians or fellow officers to worry about, she opened the front door and climbed in.

"Are you legal?" he asked.

She turned her head, stretched her neck toward the cool blasting from the air-conditioning vents.

"Fine fat wad that'll do me. Or my mother or sister." She decided to tell him later about running into Anna . "Have you heard anything? Did anyone spot the man on the motorcycle?"

Natsume pressed the gas pedal. "We're investigating."

"Another fine fat wad." Mikan slumped against the seat. "What about Cherry?"

He threw her a glance. "Why do women have to name their cars?"

"Why do men have to grab their crotches?"

He smiled looking for the first time as if he was enjoying himself. "One of the patrol officers drove 'Cherry',– " he said the name with registration " – to Ruka's Auto Place."

"Sound swanky."

"He'll fix her right and charge you a fair price. Ruka's a friend of mine."

She turned towards him. "You got a lot of friend, Hyuuga?"

"Not as many as my foes."

"Occupational hazard?"

"I'm going to stop, get a couple of slices before we go see Ruka. Want anything?"

Typical man, Mikan thought. Change the subject if the talk turned to anything personal or that smacked of feelings. Natsume had chosen Food, soccer and manga. The three, varying in priority depending on the month and the time of day.

"Serina's went out of business two years ago. One of her son sold the business. But Anju's still has a decent pie." Natsume swung onto Narumis.

Mikan would have preferred to go straight to the garage. She had only seen under the front seat on the passenger side, stuck her hand between the cushions on the driver's side when searching for the seat belt. Lord knew what other secrets Cherry might have. At least Mikan knew the trunk only held her overnight bag.

Her purse weighed heavy on her lap. She could tell Natsume about the money. She gave him a sidelong glance, made herself get past his looks that made women lose their self-respect. Even before he'd been professionally trained, he'd learned not to trust. So had she. Until she knew more about what was going on and could take a better look inside the Porsche, she wasn't ready to confide in anyone. She rested both hands on her handbag.

Natsume pulled over, parked about a half block from a dark red and green building with Pizza etched on the window in neon.

They were almost to the building when someone called Natsume's name. They both turned to see a dark -haired man coming toward them. Despite the heat, the man wore a full suit. He had put on weight since Mikan had last had the pleasure, but she easily recognized Kuonji. He had the kind of face that would have made him a good priest. It had been rumored once that his mother, God rest her soul, had her fingers crossed. But instead, Kuonji had gone off in search of a fortune and came back as close to heaven as one could get without the Pope's blessing – a rich man. Her mother had never failed to mention it.

"Detective Hyuuga." The man held out his hand, included Mikan in his smile. He took a double take, his grin widening.

Mikan held out her hand. "How are you, Kuonji?"

"Mikan? Mikan Yukihara?"

"In the flesh."

He pulled her into an embrace. "It's good to see you."

"Thanks. It's good to see you, too, Kuonji. You're doing well, I hear. Congratulations."

He waved aside her compliments. "Everybody's got to make a living, right? So, how long are you going to stay? Or are you back for good?"

"I'm not sure," she answered honestly.

"Well, it's great to see you again. Hey, what about this guy?" He clamped his hand on Natsume's shoulder. "How's the war going, Detective?"

"Depends on whose winning."

"I hope the good man, Detective. The good man."

"We're heading into Anju's for some slices. Why don't you join us?" Natsume invited.

"Sure, tempt me with Anju's pie." Kuonji patted his generous stomach. "Is that how he got you to come along?"

"No, he threatened to arrest me," Mikan replied.

"That's still a possibility," Natsume warned.

"I knew there was a reason beautiful women hung out with you."

"Believe what you want, Kuonji, but you need more than a big gun."

Kuonji smiled. "Man's an animal. As much as I hate to pass on Anju's, I have to speak at the Sons of Italy tonight, and if I show up full before the ladies have a chance to feed me, well –"

He didn't have to explain. Natsume and Mikan understood an Italian's woman's wrath when food was refused.

"Another time then."

"Most definitely." Kuonji smiled at Mikan. "We've got to get together while you're in town."

"How's funding going for the Keeping It On the Courts program?" Natsume asked.

"I've almost got Shiki to double it in this year's budget."

"Good work. Tell him he'll have the precinct's full support."

The two men shook hands "Mikan," Kuonji took her hand. "I really do hope we'll have time to catch up."

"I hope so, too," Mikan replied.

"I hope so, too," Mikan replied.

Kuonji left. "Sound like Kuonji will be running for office himself someday," Mikan noted as she and Natsume headed toward their restaurant.

"No one would be surprised if he did. He already hangs out with some political heavyweights, serves on the governor's advisory business board and has been involved in several neighborhood revitalization projects."

"What's 'Keeping It On the Courts?'"

"Inner city basketball program some of the guys at the station and myself coach. I got my cousin's son playing. My cousin was in his twenties when he was killed in a firebombing. He was out celebrating the birth of his firstborn. A boy."

"I'm sorry." She put her hand on his arm, felt the muscled tense beneath her touch.

"The boy's fifteen now and six foot tall. We're working on a scholarship." He didn't shrug off her touch.

They went into the restaurant. Narumi Anju made a big fuss over both of them, called Misaki out of the kitchen to see 'skinny little Mikan' all grown up, and refused to take their money.

They eat in the car, Natsume maneuvering with one hand as he held a slice in the other,

Mikan took a final bite of crust. "So you didn't speak to Persona yet?"

"I'm heading to the bar right after I take you over to Ruka's. I'll drop you off to your hotel on the way. Where are you staying?"

"I haven't decided,"

He brake for a stop sign. "Well, decide and I'll drop you off after Ruka's"

The man would never learn.

When her silence grew long, he glanced at her. "I work alone, Mikan."

"You can either take me with you or drop me off at the next corner, and I'll get a taxi. Either way, I'm going to the tavern and see if I can find out what happened to my mother and sister."

Natsume eyed her. "I should have locked you up when I had the chance."

"Life is full of missed opportunities, Natsume."

She ignore his glare. Men like Natsume Hyuuga were dangerous but could be dealt with. All a girl had to remember was not to give an inch or she'd be a goner for sure.

"So, no news about that maniac on the motorcycle? And why he wanted to kill me?" she asked as if making conversation.

"Allegedly wanted to kill you."

She gave him a long look. "Tell that to the coroner."

"If you'd stay put in some hotel room, Harley riding gunmen wouldn't have the chance to take shot at you."

She crossed her arms, plopped them on her purse, the bundles of cash reminding her something very wrong and very dangerous was going on. And she intended to find out what.

"Do me a favor. Don't come to my funeral."

"Can I send flowers?"

If she hadn't been so mature, she would have called him a bad name. "No."

"A donation to your favorite charity?" He threw her a glance. "I'll make it a big one."

She threw in the bad name after all. Maturity wasn't all it was cracked up to be anyway.

* * *

What can you say?

Please Review so I'll know what you think about this chapter.. all of your opinion(s) are welcome :)

Anyway, I just wanna say Thank You to those who read, reviewed, followed, and added Hide and Seek in their favorites list... :))

* * *

Happy Father's day To All your Dads and especially To My Dad... :))

Till the next chapter ;)  
XOXO  
~Claire-chan143


	5. Chapter 4

Here's Chapter 4

Sorry for the delayed update...  
Please Enjoy! :)

* * *

They pulled into the garage. Mikan went to the car to get her overnight bag while Natsume walked into the bays. She waited until Natsume was out of sight before looking under the seats, then sliding her hand down the seat cushions as far as possible, searched for cash. She found a couple more bills in the driver's seat cushions and some change but no more fat stacks. Maybe her mother had been planning to leave her stepfather, and she'd kept a secret stash of money in like other women used a cookie jar. The only thing wrong with the whole theory was the car and the money were here and Yuka wasn't.

Mikan rechecked the trunk in case she'd overlooked anything before. Nothing but an umbrella and flashlight. She closed the trunk as Natsume and a wiry, blonde man came out of the garage. Natsume introduced her and Cherry to Ruka. Ruka walked to Cherry's hood, ran a finger along the crumpled front end.

"I can work up an estimate; give you a call with the figure before I start anything."

"I'd appreciate that," Mikan said, thinking of her dwindling resources. Except for several stacks of cash bruising her hip. "Any idea?"

Ruka studied the car like an artist before a canvas. "Considering the car's year, depends on whether I can find replacement parts at one of the junkyards. I'll give you a break of course, being you're a friend of Natsume's."

"When do you think I could get her back?"

"Let's see." He looked over the lot. "Provided my wife's good-for-nothing nephew shows up at a decent hour tomorrow, and, like I said, I can find the parts, and I don't have too much trouble matching the paint – you know who painted her?"

Mikan shook her head. "I could as my stepfather." She dreaded having to tell Person a she had been in an accident with the Porsche and his insurance premium would be going up.

Ruka shrugged, "If you find out, give me a call. Otherwise I'll try to match her with the custom charts. Probably won't have her finished for a few days though."

"If there's any way you could have her done sooner, I'd appreciate it."

"Maybe you would, but my other customers might not be so happy."

"I understand." Mikan handed him the keys that had been left in the ignition and followed the two men into the garage to give Ruka her phone number.

He turned to Natsume as they left the garage and walked towards his car. "So, on to the bar."

His expression told her he wasn't buying it.

"You've got two choices," he told her as they pulled away from Ruka's. "Either you choose where you're going to stay or I do."

"Tough guy, huh?" she did her best to convince him. "C'mon. I'll buy you a drink."

"I'm still on duty."

"Until when?"

He glanced at his watch. "Another hour."

"You can buy me a drink."

His jaw tightened. She was getting under his skin. "What's it going to be? Zoetrope? Bar Hermit east? Or HUB?"

If he thought she was giving up that easily, the man had a short –term memory problem. "Pull over, and drop me off. I'll take a taxi to Persona's."

He threw her a long look.

"You don't scare me, Hyuuga. Pull over. I'm not going to sit around in some hotel room when I could be doing something to find my mother and Luna. Besides I've got to tell Persona about the accident."

"You can call him."

"I'm in the mood for a little social interaction. There's a cab at the corner up there. Pull over."

He swore. She won. She smiled until they drove to Persona's. They circled the block until they found parking several sides down town. The new night was no less hot than the day, promising only to get worse before better. The doors to the bar were closed, the air conditioner humming and dripping out a side window. The rest of the windows were dark, favoring the patrons inside. Music and voices was getting louder as they get closer. Drink and gregariousness greeted Natsume and Mikan before they opened the door. Like all taverns, Persona's had its regulars that paid the bills, but it also had curiosity seekers – the nearby universities. But mainly it was a workingman's bar. No blender drinks or blue martinis here. The top choice of drinks was American-brewed beer straight from the tap, shots and more beer.

Only those sitting near the door glanced up as Mikan and Natsume entered. If any the faces were familiar, Mikan didn't recognize them. She scanned the room, nothing interest in several of the woman's faces as they appraised Natsume.

There were no stools at the bar. A table would have seemed to intimate, so they stood, leaning against the bar's wood edge. Mikan propped one foot jauntily on the foot-high platform that ran around the bottom of the bar, clutched her purse to her side and looked for Persona. He wasn't behind the bar, where a man I his mid-thirties with brownish-gray hair and a blonde with wide but pleasing hips and too much blue eye shadow poured drafts with little foam.

The man came over to them, but not right away. It was the hour when the after-work crowd, having come in for one or two, find they're missed dinner and oh what the hell, work sucks and the world sucks and the old lady hadn't wanted to do it since a bar stool never seemed so comfortable. They had just been joined by those who came much later but with one purpose – to drink. The combustible combination of the two crowds could result in a brawl or a ball, the man with brownish-gray hair and blonde were the ringmasters.

Several minutes went by before either bartender noticed Mikan and Natsume. As the brownish-gray haired man approached, Mikan saw wariness in his eyes as he looked at Natsume. Before he could ask. "What'll you have?" Natsume asked, "Persona in the back?"

The bartender's wariness increased. "Who's asking?"

Natsume jabbed a thumb at Mikan. "His stepdaughter." He met the bartender's watchful gaze as he pulled his badge out. "And Detective Hyuuga."

The bartender wiped a spot on the bar, unimpressed. "Persona's not here."

Mikan looked at Natsume. His stare stayed on the bartender. "Where can we find him?"

"Did Persona call?" the bartender yelled to the other bartender. The woman paused in the middle of drawing a draft and shook her head. She set the beer before a pockmarked man and came toward Mikan and Natsume, wiping her hands on a dish towel.

"You're looking for Persona? He called me this morning, asked if I wanted to pick up an extra shift. I said sure. He said he'd be in the usual time."

"What's the 'usual time'?" Natsume asked.

"Usually he's here by six-thirty." The woman glanced at her wristwatch. "Something must have come up."

"He often comes in late?"

The woman looked at her co-worker, wondering if she should talk or not.

"He's a cop. She's Persona's stepdaughter."

"Oh." The woman wrung the towel and look at Mikan. She held out a hand with a silver pinky ring. "I'm Serina. I know your mother. Actually, she'd been working the Thursday shift for the past few months. Persona called this morning and asked if I could cover."

"Did he say why?" Natsume asked.

"Nope. And I didn't ask. If the boss's wife wants to take a night off, I figure it none of my business."

"You try calling Persona?" Natsume asked both of them.

"He'd the boss. He calls and checks on us. We don't call him unless there's a problem." The man glanced toward the other side of the bar where someone must have called his name. He nodded. "Which so far this night, there hasn't been. `Scuse me." He moved away.

"You guys want a drink?" Serina asked. Natsume and Mikan shook their heads.

"You're friends with my mother?" Mikan asked.

"We go our separate ways outside of work, but we get along just fine working together. I like your mom. She can make me laugh. She's alright."

"How'd she get along with Persona?" Natsume asked.

Serina's gaze darted back and forth between Mikan and Natsume. "Why?"

"Persona says she took some cash and her stuff and left him last night."

Serina looked at Mikan, back to Natsume.

"Did she ever say anything to you about leaving Persona?"

"She moans and groans about her old man like we all do, but leave him? I never heard her say anything like that. They'd just gotten that house. She talked about it all the time. All the things she was going to do to fix it up. She was working extra shifts for the cash."

Mikan felt the weight in her purse. It was more than four nights a week of bar tips.

"So he didn't say anything to you about her taking off on him?"

"When Persona called this morning, I just figured Yuka needed a night off. Then again, I don't know many men who'd be happy to admit they'd been dumped."

"If that's what happened," Mikan said. Serina held her gaze. "My stepfather has a temper."

"Well, yeah." Serina's gaze bounces away. A couple sitting three stools down pushed their glasses to the edge of the bar. Serina signaled she'd be there in a minute. "I heard the stories. Not from your mother, but some of the other girls." She looked apologetically at Mikan. "Big city. Small talk. But you don't think…" Alarm moved into her heavily made up features.

"I'm just trying to find out what happened to my mother," Mikan told her.

The woman's expression turned sympathetic. "I wish I could help you. She was all right, your mother." The towel tightened in her hands. "Listen, I got to get back to work."

"What about Yuka's other daughter, Luna?" Natsume asked. "You know her?"

The woman's expression changed. "Yeah, she comes in now and then."

"When's the last time you saw her?" asked Natsume.

"She was her few nights ago." Serina glanced at Mikan.

"You can tell me very little that I don't already know about my sister," Mikan assured her.

"She wanted money. Your mother was working. She wouldn't give her any, told her if she needed groceries, she'd take her shopping. A bill paid, bring it to her and she'd send a check out. But she wasn't giving her cash. Luna came last night. Your mother wasn't working, but Persona was here. This time she wanted to borrow the car."

"Persona's car?" Mikan asked.

"No, the night before Persona had had a few, so Yuka drove them both in her car. Persona drove your mother's car in the next day."

"The Porsche?" Mikan asked.

Serina nodded.

"He let Luna take it?" Natsume asked.

"Yeah."

"She brings it back?" Natsume asked.

"No. Persona drove his own car home. I figure Luna drove the Porsche back to your mom's place."

Mikan looked at Natsume.

"What about Luna's boyfriend? Koko? You know him?" Natsume continued.

"He came in here once or twice, but not with your sister. He wasn't around much except when his ship docked. Yuka didn't like him, and Yuka liked most people. But she said this guy was no good for Luna. She said Luna had told her about another guy she met, nice guy, steady job, although I never saw him in here with her. Yuka had her fingers crossed this would be the one, the one that would help Luna straighten out her life, you know. I tried to tell her it ain't that simple." She looked away, her face closed.

"Did Yuka-san ever mention this other guy's name?" Natsume asked.

Serina shook her head. "I don't think Yuka knew. Who knows? Luna could have made him up. The gal was prone to flights of fancy, if you know what I mean."

"Persona keeps a gun around?" Natsume asked. "For protection?"

"He did."

"He did?"

"Somebody snatched it a couple of weeks ago. He filed a report with the police."

Natsume slid a card across the bar. "If you think of anything else, here's my number."

The woman tucked the card in her back number on a cocktail napkin.

"This is my cell number. If you hear from my mother or Luna, would you give it to them?"

The woman took the napkin. "Sure I can't get you guys anything?"

Mikan shook her head.

"When you partner has a minute, I'd like to talk to him," Natsume said. Serina nodded and headed to the other end of the bar.

"Luna had the Porsche. She must have been the last one to drive it."

"Perhaps," was all Natsume could give up.

Mikan watched the woman. "Kind of convenient Persona's gun was stolen don't you think?"

"It happens." If Natsume suspected anything, he wasn't sharing it with her.

She reached into her purse, past the cash, pulled out her cell phone. "I'm going to call the house, see if Persona's there." After four rings, the answering machine clicked on. She closed her eyes as her mother's recorded voice told the caller to leave a message. Would it be the last thing she'd ever hear her mother say? She opened her eyes. Natsume was watching her. She erased any expression, held his gaze as she asked Persona or anyone for that matter to pick up if they were there. She waited a few seconds, left her cell phone number and told Persona to call her. She disconnected, dropped the phone into her purse. Natsume's gaze stayed on her.

"I got the answering machine. My mother's voice was on the message." Natsume was kind enough no to show sympathy.

The other bartender came up to them. "Serina said you wanted to see me?"

"I've got just a few questions. Did Persona ever talk to you about his marriage?"

The man held up his hands. "I come here, do my job. I don't get involved in nobody's personal business."

"So, you and Persona, you never talked?"

"Sure, we talked. Just not about his marriage."

"What about Luna Yukihara? You know her?"

"Sure, I know her. She's Persona's stepdaughter. She comes in now and then."

"Seen her lately?"

"Nope."

"Serina said she was in last night."

"I was off last night."

"Said she was in the night before, too."

The man's gaze held steady, but his pupils danced. "I must have missed her."

"What about her boyfriend, Kokoro Yome? Works the boats. You know him?"

"Nope."

"How long are you working here?"

"About three months."

"Got a name?"

"Nodacchi."

Natsume pulled out a card. "Just in case something jogs your memory, Nodacchi."

When he reached for the card Natsume noticed a gold bangle with a signature sign of the Alice on his right wrist.

"You're a member of the Alice, Nodacchi?"

"That's right."

"You own a black Harley?"

"Silver." He glanced down the bar. "Are we finished here?"

"If Persona comes in, tell him we'd like to talk to him."

The bartender nodded, moved off toward another customer.

"He's lying about something," Mikan said as they left the bar.

"Not about the Harley." Parked in the alley beside the bar was a sliver motorcycle.

"No. it wasn't him who threatened me earlier." Natsume sent her a sharp look.

"The man on the motorcycle this afternoon was much smaller. I thought the feds broke up the Alice in that bust back in 2000," she said, changed the subject. Persona's own son from his first wife had been a member of the gang. His trial had been coming up when he'd been fatally stabbed in a bar fight over an ex-girlfriend.

"They did."

Behind Natsume's beautiful crimson eyes she saw his wheels spinning. Whatever he was thinking, though, he wasn't going to share it with her. She opened the car door, and her purse banged against her side. Everybody had their secrets.

"A lot of them served out their sentences and have been released the past few years. Enough to set up a clubhouse and a grocery-store operation over on Third Avenue. So far they've kept a low profile."

"You think the Alice have something to do with my mother and Luna's disappearance?"

"One of their members is working at the bar."

"And Persona's son was a member."

Natsume started the car. "That firebombing that killed my cousin. The bar's owner was a rival of Persona's. No evidence was ever found, but word was Persona's son and his buddies were behind the bombing."

She put her hand on his, gazed at his hard profile, but knew enough not to say anything.

Natsume drove, watching the street. "You need to get a room."

"Okay."

The glance he shot her said he'd been expecting an argument. Her compliance was equally suspect. Hard man to please.

"Where to?" Natsume headed the car uptown. "Keio Plaza Hotel, the Sunroute Plaza?"

Mikan thought of her depleting resources. "Didn't we pass Bell Motor Lodge on the way over?"

Natsume sent her another look. "What are you doing? Trying to relive your misspent youth?"

She hadn't remembered until Natsume's remark that Bell Motor Lodge had rented rooms by the hour, earning it the nickname the make out lodge from the high school students who frequented it.

"No, trying to relive yours."

He cracked a grin, completely shameless.

"Okay." He swung into the outer lane. "The Bell hotel it is."

Several minutes later he pulled into the parking lot.

"You have my number?" She stalled. It was easy to play big and bad when cruising around with an Italian hard body with a mean-streets attitude and a fully licensed weapon. She looked at the vacancy swinging beneath the hotel's sign. Story of her life, she thought.

Natsume eyed her with narrow gaze. "Let me take you to my sister's. You remembered Aoi. She married a lawyer. A good guy. She's got a colonial in a ritzy development outside the city. Keeps popping out kids and making mama happy."

He was stalling, too, Mikan realized. Puppy-dog warmth spread through her limbs. She leaned over and kissed him on the mouth midsentence. It was the smartest thing she done, but as her lips met his, tasting his own sweet shock, it was the most satisfying.

She let it ride, lingering, as their lips clung. Her mouth relaxed as if to sigh, as if it'd been searching a long time for something, someone to take away the hunger. Her mind marveled that in all these years she hadn't realized she'd already found it. She'd sworn she'd forgotten him. She'd lied.

She knew she'd have to be the first to pull away. To begin with, there was the male maxim that said a woman kisses you, you kiss back – hard. Second she'd initiated the action; it was up to her to end it. Another unwritten code of sexual conduct.

She knew all this, but she did nothing about it except lean deeper into the kiss, letting all else go and listen to the purr build into a roar. She lengthened her tongue, loosened her lips and took from Natsume the one thing he was willing to share. Damn generous. Damn good.

Of course, like any proper girl, even the blood rushing to all her parts and the drunken desire couldn't block out her mother's voice warning what happens to bad girls who neck in boys' cars. Firmly etched in her universal Catholic conscious were her mother's dire prophesies about boys and back seats, even though Mikan strongly suspected it was how herself came to be.

Still, it wasn't her mother's cautions that caused her to push away, hadn't been for long time. It was her mother's disappearance and a million more questions concerning the mystery.

She drew back, her arm wrapped around Natsume's neck, her other hand tight, her other hand tight to his bicep. She pulled away slowly.

"Did we just break some sort of law here or something?" Ah, she liked the glaze in his eyes. One blink and it was back to the edgy stare, Natsume-style. God bless. Gone was the man who'd had his socks rocked, but she'd seen him, confirming what she'd always suspected. Natsume Hyuuga had a heart. He just preferred to keep it hidden beneath a body built for pleasure and an A-1 bad-ass manner. She didn't blame him one bit.

"Not unless I missed something," he answered with his bad-guy grin.

She smiled back. _I'm on to you, Hyuuga. _"So, making out in a car with a law-enforcer? That's not violating some kind of statute or something?"

"I've never seen anything about it in the code book."

She deliberately said nothing, staring him down, giving him the chance to grab her – or maybe she'd grab him again. He was the first to look away. She'd won. He was scared. Scared as she. Or he would have wrapped his hand around the back of her head and dragged her to him and not cared less.

She leaned over, whispered in his ear, "You're going down for the count this time, Hyuuga."

She slid across the seat, opened the door, and almost made out when his hand caught her upper arm and pulled her back onto his lap, the steering wheel pressing into the back of her head and his mouth moving into hers without retreat. For several minutes, he kissed and coaxed and nipped and stroke her until her nail dug into his shoulders and her hips pressed to him, her entire body thrusting forward as if having discovered a new natural law of physics. He didn't let up. No let up at all, and what a fine thing it was.

He stopped as he'd started, looked down at her, the conqueror in his eyes. She leaned her head on the steering wheel, violence between them. Cut from the same cloth, they'd either kill each other or love each other like no other. Either way, they were doomed.

"If I go down," he said "you're going with me." It was the best offer she'd had in a lifetime. She slid out the best offer she'd had in lifetime. She slid out the door, grabbed her bag from the passenger seat, propped her arm on the opened door and leaned into the car. "You'll let me know if you get anything from Persona."

"What are? Partners now?"

"That's right. Call me." She slammed the door and walked to the Hotel office, giving him her best back side show. She didn't turn and look as she heard the car shift into reverse, roll out of the parking lot. If she was sixteen again, and he was seventeen, he would gun the engine and peel out. But she wasn't sixteen. He wasn't seventeen. She was twenty four with missing mother and sister and only a month of severance between her and the streets. He was twenty five, a detective who has seen human depravity in all its many incarnations. Still, she'd bet her last year of decent dividends that as he eased the unmarked vehicle into traffic and pulled smoothly away, he was smiling. Just like her.

* * *

What do you think? Any comments? or Violent reaction? (Just in-case you have...)

Please Review so I'll know what you think about this chapter.. all of your opinion(s) are welcome :)

Anyway, I just wanna say Thank You to those who read (that includes my ghost/silent readers), reviewed, followed, and added Hide and Seek in their favorites list... :))

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Till the next chapter ;)  
XOXO  
~Claire-chan143


	6. Chapter 5

Here's Chapter 5  
Please Enjoy :)

* * *

The two story house with Victorian flourishes was part of as part of a sprawling residential development named Grand Estate, in the hope of distinguishing it from the numerous developments that sprouted like goose grass. The houses were moderate Capes, long ranches, with the occasional brick front and thirty three thousand interior thrown in. Mikan drove slowly past number eighteen in her rented Buick Verano. The house was cream; it's trim, white. The yard was tidy, the walk trimmed with lush hosta, the flower beds beneath the half porch's rail bursting with petunias and pansies. Certainly not Mikan's idea of a killer's lair. Then again, motorcycle – riding, gun-wielding maniacs didn't usually dress in a White Collar inspired suit either.

She drove several blocks over, the deepening night dark enough for her to turn her headlights on. Several people were still out walking, most with dogs. Children splashed and yelled in a pool. Balls and swing sets littered the yards. Many waved as she passed despite the fact that they didn't recognize the car. Nothing like suburbia to bring a lump on your throat.

Mikan circled, came back toward number eighteen. What was the plan here? She couldn't just walk up and ask, "Excuse me? Did you try to off me today at the corner of Maiden?"

She parked at far edge of the lawn, not wanting to circle a third time. She'd already seen some of the welcoming looks turn curious. Suspicion was next. Suburbia was sweet but it wasn't stupid.

She rolled down the window and stared at the house and its example of everything true and pure and great about Japanese. Maybe Natsume was right. Maybe she was overreacting. Maybe what she thought was a gun or simple female hysteria. She closed her eyes, again pictures the motorcycle, the man and saw the gun again as clear as holy water. The son of a bitch had tried to kill her.

"Can I help you?"

She gave a squeak, her eyes flying open. An elderly woman, her light blue eyes and features gone from pretty to kindly by way of numerous wrinkles, stood small but sturdy-looking in her book. "I didn't mean to startle you."

"I'm looking for Reo Mouri's house."

"You found it. Right on the money." The woman's face folded up within itself more as she smiled and gestured to the cream ranch with the white trim. "Such a nice young man. Keeps a nice place too, don't you think?" Don't know if he's home, though."

The house did look dark. The garage doors were down. "Maybe I missed him. I'll just go and ring the bell to make sure. Have a good night now." Mikan attempted to get the woman moving on her way. She got out of the car and started up the drive, a queasy sensation in her stomach, like the time in college when she'd washed down guacamole and tortilla chips with several pints of dark beer. Well, if ol' Reo was home and answered the door, he certainly wouldn't kill her in his front porch, she reasoned. Not with all the cream and white and weed less flower beds.

She rang the bell, waited, waved to the elderly lady who had turned the corner and was continuing up the street parallel to Reo's house. No answer. No sound of life inside. At least she'd tried. She turned to go, met the black garage door windows. She stepped off the porch, strolled to the drive, looking up and down the streets. The mother across the street was busy shrieking at the children in the pool. A jogger trying to envision the end of his self-imposed torture. Mikan cupped her hands and peered through the dark squares into the garage.

Centered in one half of the cement floor, black and arrogantly shiny even in the gloom was a Harley-Davidson motorcycle. A satisfied smile came to Mikan's face. She peered harder as if expecting to find an answer. Nothing. The garage was as neat as the house's exterior.

She stepped back, studied the house. Imagined the inside reflected its owner's fastidiousness. Not the type of person to chase a woman in broad daylight and attempt to shot her on one of the city's busiest corners.

She stares at the house. Was the answer inside? Had this man of the monster motorcycle and the tended flower gardens tried to kill her? Did he know what had happened to her and sister?

She circled the garage to the back door, knocked again. Hard. Still no answer. She fumbled through her purse for a safety pin, bent it open, shaped the tip, inserted it into the lock and jiggled a technique everybody had known back in the neighborhood but she hadn't employed since returning from a midnight rendezvous at sixteen and finding the front door locked the key under the mat removed by her mother.

Five minutes later, she heard a click, opened the door. No claim and bolt. Nice neighborhood. She stepped into the kitchen, more than the air-conditioning going full force making her shiver. Technically she wasn't doing anything wrong, she told herself as she scanned the room. She wasn't going to take anything. Just look for something, anything that might help her find her mother and sister.

She shut the door. Plus the man had tried to shoot her. Justification enough for her to tiptoe across his linoleum. She crept into the hall, staying close to the wall in her best emulation of every crime thriller movie she'd ever seen. She poked her head around the corner, and then drew back again. Slower this time, she peeked, her back pressed to the wall. A typical living room with the customary couch, early Colonial style, blue-and-red plaid. A chair and ottoman, the same shade of blue as in the couch, were nearby. Two maple tray tables with elegant legs served as a coffee table. Reo Mouri had better taste than most men Mikan had know. She moved down to a room set up as an office with variety of computer equipment, Most men loved the gadgets and gizmos of this age, taking a primitive pride in the size of their RAM and hard drive. She looked around, pressed a button on the keyboard. Program icons in even rows filled the screen. Mikan read the names. Many were typical software needed for personal computers. Other were unfamiliar to Mikan, but from the icons name their names, most seemed to be some kind of a game. All this told her was Reo was a gamer. Not a killer.

She sigh a deep super sleuth sigh and tried to think like Nancy Drew. When that produced nothing, she climbed the stairs. At the top to her left was what appeared to be a spare bedroom. Directly in front was a bathroom and to her right, what had to be Reo's bedroom, with its masculine hunter green colors and vertical blinds across the windows. She walked into the bathroom. Freud, Jung and others had theories on personality but Mikan believed the essence of a man lay behind two doors – his refrigerator's and his bathroom medicine cabinets. She slid back one mirrored door on the cabinet over the sink. After shave, razors, aspirin, toothpaste, mouthwash, dental floss. Reo followed an excellent hygienic routine. She had not expected otherwise. She slid the mirrored panel closed and slid over the other one.

Several bottles of different types of antacid in varying colors and sizes sat on the clean glass shelves. Two prescription bottles, half-filled, sat on the shelves. Mikan turned their labels toward her. Nexium. Prilosec. Medicine prescribed to counteract nervous stomachs. Two thirds of brokers Mikan had known had popped them daily. She moved to the bedroom, faced the tall dresser on the opposite wall. She wasn't really going to go through his drawers, was she? Okay, the man had tried to shoot her but something about rifling through his skivvies seemed very un- Nancy Drew- like. She darted her gaze around the room, hoping for deliverance. Several books were stacked evenly on the bottom shelf on the nightstand. A clock-radio and telephone sat on the top beside a reading lamp. Her gaze swung to the closet. She moved toward it in the gathering dusk, trying not to let the shadow spook her. She pushed back the sliding door. It was stuck halfway. She pushed harder when a ringing made her jump. She glanced wildly around, her heart banging against her chest. Realizing it was her cell phone did nothing to spell the hammering of her heart. She groped in her purse, sweat tricking down her forehead. Nancy Drew would have turned her cell phone off. The ringing continued persistent as a mother's guilt. Oh, screw Nancy Drew. Mikan dumped her purse on Reo's bounce-a-quarter-off-it bed and grabbed her phone. She jabbed Talk. "What?"

"Where the hell are you?"

Natsume. "Why don't you strap me with one of those tracking ankle bracelet and we can skip the formalities." Propping the phone on her shoulder, she scrambled to shove everything back in her purse, including two stack of cash that she still didn't know what to do with but couldn't leave in the hotel room.

"A call from Tokyo Security. A silent alarm was triggered at eighteen suburb drive west Tokyo."

_Uh-oh._

"Get the hell out there."

The line went dead. For once she'd do what she was told.

Her purse tucked under her arm, she ran down the stairs without a plan. She froze, pulled flat against the wall as headlights swept the room. A car pulled into the driveway. She heard whir of the garage door opening. Reo. Most likely, he would come n through the back door opening. On her hands and knees, she crawled past the side windows toward the front door. Still on her knees, she reached up, unlocked the front door, wincing at the click. She pressed on the handle; inch by silent inch swung the door open. Only then did she straighten up and step out into the hot night, pulling the door carefully closed behind her. She tensed every muscle as she waited for the final click. She released a breath, turned.

"Hi, honey."

Coming towards her up the stairs was a medium built man with dark hair and mean smile. Past the man's shoulder she saw a patrol car come down the street. It slowed, pulled into the drive, its headlights sweeping the front yard.

She enveloped in a bone-crushing hug. The man's arm slithered down her side to pull up his waistband, press its snout to her navel. "Don't give me any problems," he muttered.

She had finally met Reo Mouri.

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What do you think? Any comments? or Violent reaction? (Just in-case you have...)

Please Review so I'll know what you think about this chapter.. all of your opinion(s) are welcome :)

Anyway, I just wanna say Thank You to those who read (that includes my ghost/silent readers), reviewed, followed, and added Hide and Seek in their favorites list... :))

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Till the next chapter ;)  
XOXO  
~Claire-chan143


	7. Trouble, Trouble, Trouble

*sigh* I don't know where to begin.. Well you see, we're having a trouble on the reviews and the reason was because of my stupidness, I deleted some of the authors note that I made (After I upload an Update) without thinking and that's were the trouble begins so if you can notice; when you review on the LDWAL chapter 18 your review will appear on the chapter 17 same goes for the Hide and Seek.. so~ I apologize for the inconvenience... I hope you can forgive me..

~Claire-chan143


	8. Sad :(

On Hiatus For 2 months for more information just PM me or You can contact me through FB just go to my profile to see the link..


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